Chapter Text
Tim has had a hard life. He’s had to deal with a lot shit: dying, losing his parents, a whole weird timeline situation, et cetera et cetera. So when he has something that makes life worth living, he grabs it and he never lets go. Such things are few and hard to find though.
First off, (although he would never willingly admit it) his “family”, as Dick liked to insist they were. He hadn’t realized the baggage that came with being a Robin, but now he isn’t allowed to forget about them. The constant screaming and complaining wouldn’t let him forget either. As much as Tim loved them, he couldn’t stand them, not without help. That’s where the other thing he cared about came in.
Coffee.
A pure, delicious, life-sustaining liquid.
The substance of the gods.
Tim could go on and on about the wonders of coffee. The heat of it against his hands when he nursed a cup, the way his body felt the same warmth after consuming three cups. The taste of it, god the taste. Bitter when he was running on three hours of sleep for the past three days, a jolt to his system that allowed him to do his job without collapsing. The taste helping wake him up in addition to the pleasing rush of caffeine that ran through his body. There have been many nights where it was just Tim and his coffee, his glorious, wondrous, vitalizing coffee. Technically, Tim’s family came first, but if he was asked to choose… it would take him a second, okay? Yes, he would choose his family… if he had to… like, if it was a matter of life or death… probably.
And while bitter coffee was best coffee (more bitter, more caffeine, more staying awake) there was one exception that Tim made. Holiday season meant special coffee season in Tim’s world. Every year, Alfred would buy this one specific seasonal coffee, and it drove Tim mad . It was almost better than bitter coffee just from taste alone. What it lacked in caffeine, it made up for in sugary sweetness. It was Tim’s one guilty pleasure, the one exception to his coffee rule (Coffee Rule: All coffee must be able to FULLY wake Tim up in a minimum THREE cups) (the rule was adjusted accordingly as Tim built up a tolerance to the extreme amount of caffeine he forced his body to process). If he wasn’t working on some case or off patrolling or sleeping, Tim would probably be found holding a mug of this special elixir, savoring it as he sat in front of the fire in the library. It was one of the only times Tim rested.
So, it was understandable that Tim became very upset upon realizing his love- coffee, his coffee - was nowhere to be found. He had looked through every cabinet of the kitchen, through the dining room drawers, he had even checked the coffee stash downstairs. Not only was his seasonal coffee gone, but, as far as he could tell, there was not a single drop of coffee in the house. Tim didn’t often consider murder (he fights crime in Gotham, he’s gonna consider murder an option when Harley is wreaking havoc two hours before his bio final), but it was shining up as a possible punishment for whoever had taken the light of his life.
“No luck Timmy?” Dick, that dick, asked cheerfully.
Tim grunted.
“Ooh, your Batman impression is improving!” Dick climbed down the stairs to where Tim was once again emptying the kitchen cabinets. “You ever think that maybe the reason there’s no coffee is because Alfred banned it?”
“There was no need for it to be banned, I was perfectly fine.”
“Al had to restock four times in one week. I’d say that counts as not fine”
Tim grew frustrated. “Are you going to keep teasing me, or can I return to my search in peace?”
“Can’t you just go to the store and buy some?” Dick asked.
“Dick, I can’t just buy this coffee. Alfred gets all of it imported from some place, they don’t sell the right taste in a store.” Tim stood up, having finished going through the drawers a second time. “Listen, at this point I just need really strong coffee. I’m so close to finishing this case, I just need my brain to wake up enough to connect the dots, because right now it’s not connecting shit.”
“Well… what about a cafe? They sell coffee too, so you could ask them to make it strong enough?”
Time stopped, or seemed to as Tim waited for his brain to process. Dick had a point. What was stopping his from simply going out and asking a cafe to make it? Yes, Tim had his particularities about coffee, but there should be at least one barista competent enough to make it.
“DIck, for once you’ve made a good point.” Tim went to grab one of the keys they had hanging on the wall. “I’ll be back at some point.”
Dick grabbed the keys out of his hand. “Not so fast Timmy. I feel like letting you drive right now would be a danger to the public.”
“I’m coherent enough to drive you dick.”
“My concern for the public far outweighs any of your complaints-” “Dick gimme back the keys” “- which is why I’ll be driving you instead.”
Tim weighed his options. He could fight Dick for the keys, but he knew his muscles would be moaning out of exhaustion by the end of it. So the only way to get his coffee would be to let the bastard drive him. Dick had already grabbed his jacket, so Tim was left to follow him out to the car.
He just needed one decent cup of coffee.
Just one.
Please.